When our hero begged for this in his dreams, in his prayers, he didn't know what he was asking for. One wouldn't think that such a slight, bony frame would hold so much emotion, and one wouldn't think that if it did, it would ever be expressed. But it pours out of that frame in torrents.
There is simply too much of him. His huge bright eyes, his soft and bitten lips, his finely wrought hands, his perfect white skin. Our hero is intoxicated with him. Going mad. The soft sound of his breath is roaring in our hero's ears.